


Bite The Lip (Just Forget The Bleeding)

by DreamWeaver14



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Ashton isnt very understanding, Asshole Ashton, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hidden abuse, M/M, Michael gets abused by one of the crew members, Molestation, Physical Abuse, Sad, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:40:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamWeaver14/pseuds/DreamWeaver14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael thought touring the world with his best mates was supposed to be the time of his life.  And maybe it would have been if it hadn't been for the abuse that he never let the boys see..  After distancing and self medicating is no longer enough how far will Michael go to escape his own personal hell?  And can the boys save him before he goes to far?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That Sinking Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [XY](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=XY).



Normally Michael would be psyched to be going on tour, and in a way he still was, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness that had settled over him after meeting the crew that they would be working with. It wasn’t as though any of the crew members had been outlandishly rude or anything, but rather that one of the sound techs, Michael thinks his name was Dave, had just watched him and made his skin crawl with the intensity of his stare. The guy had been kind in an almost sickly sweet way, like his actions seemed almost strained and honestly it had Michael on edge pretty much immediately. His gut reaction had been to step a little closer to Luke, Calum, and Ashton in hopes of feeling more secure, but the scowl his actions seemed to bring for the new tech made him feel even less welcome than before.

 

Now well into the Australian leg of their world tour, Michael was beginning to realize that he’d had every right to feel as though Dave was not to be trusted. Admittedly, it had started innocently enough, with the sound guy calling Michael things along the lines of ‘princess’ and ‘sweet cheeks’, however it didn’t stay innocent for long because by the third week of tour the names became vulgar and derogatory unless there were other people nearby. By the fourth week of tour Michael had been cornered a few too many times and had his cries for help silenced by dry chapped lips more times than he was willing to let himself admit. He refused to let it get to him, he was a big boy and was more than capable of looking out for himself.

 

Michael decided maybe he couldn’t handle it anymore when after a particularly late concert, he found himself alone backstage as he collected his things. Within seconds of the other boys heading back to their dressing room, Michael found himself crowded into a dark corner with a hand fixed just tight enough around his throat to make his breathing strained and send adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Tell anyone about anything that goes on between us and I’ll make sure your precious little band mates pay dearly for it. Am I understood?” Dave had whispered, dry lips pressed to the shell of Michael’s ear. Michael had nodded frantically, choking out a strangled ‘yes’ as he realized there was nothing else that he could do.

“Good boy,” the creep had praised before releasing his grip on Michael throat, shoving the younger boy away before hissing, “Now get out of here before anyone comes looking.”

 

In hindsight Michael really should have seen it coming, should have expected things to escalate like they did, but really he was just a kid so maybe it was okay that he hadn’t. God knows he never expected to be shoved down onto his knees while Dave unzipped his pants, pushing down his jeans and boxers before forcing his erection into Michael’s mouth. Michael had tried crying out, had pulled away and screamed only to feel the harsh sting of an open palm against his tear stained cheek.

“Shut up you little bitch, no one’s going to save you,” Dave had growled, his eyes hard and cold as he stared the poor boy down.

“Plea-please d-don’t do this t-to me,” Michael had sobbed, tears flowing freely from his green eyes.

“Just shut up and take it like the little whore you are,” Dave had snarled, shoving back into Michael’s mouth. Michael tried struggling to get away, to no avail only to realize he had one last hope, so he bit down, hard. Dave screeched in pain, ripping himself from Michael’s mouth just as the metallic taste of blood rang out across the younger boys tastebuds.

“You little shit,” The pervert had bellowed, dragging Michael to his feet via a hand wrapped tightly around the poor boy throat.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Dave had shouted, lifting Michael and slamming his back into the wall.

“I asked you a question!” Slam.

“Answer me!” Slam.

“God damn it, answer the fucking question!” Slam.

After about the sixth time, Michael stopped feeling his back hit the wall and focus solely of the searing burn in his chest and the throbbing in his head as his body screamed out its need for air. Michael thinks he held on for about three more slams before his whole world went dark.

 

“Oh my god! What happened?” Luke had cried, running to catch up with one of their sound techs Dave as he carried a limp and unconscious Michael into their dressing room.

“I don’t know,” the man had answered, setting Michael on the couch, “We were just talking and joking around and he just got all spacy and went down.”

“Fuck,” Luke had muttered before calling out, “Ash, Cal go find help! Something happened to Mikey!” The blonde boy was trying to shake Michael awake when he noticed to red, already bruising marks that painted the older boy throat, “What the fuck happened to him?!” he had demanded.

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Dave had stammered before rushing out of the room. Luke wasn’t stupid, he knew something was going on but he figured Michael would tell them if anything had been happening.

“C’mon Mikey, babe you have to wake up for me…. please?” Luke had begged, cradling the pale boy in his arms.


	2. Sometimes It's Better Not to Remember

Michael could hear voices through the heavy cloud that hung over his mind, which meant one of two things, either he had died and was about to be blinded by the dazzling white light everyone claims you see after death or he was just waking up.  There was a horrible part of him that desperately and selfishly wished that the world had been kind enough to gift him with death so that he could escape the hell that his life was so quickly becoming, even though he knew he would never be lucky enough for that to happen.  A pained groan escaped his, quickly becoming a hiss at the intense burn the sound had caused his abused throat.

“Shh, guys I think he’s waking up,” he could hear Luke say, relief clear in his tired voice.  “M-Mikey, can you hear me babe?” Luke’s exhausted yet still hopeful voice asked.

“Ye-yeah,” Michael coughed, slowly opening his eyes, his eyelids fluttering against the harshness of the lights as he brought a hand up to hold his aching throat.

“Shit, you sound terrible,” Ashton muttered quietly, his hazel eyes flooded with concern.

“Where am I?” Michael asked quietly, wincing as the words stung his vocal chords as though each word burned with the heat of a thousand flames.

“You’re in the hospital, you passed out after the concert last night,” Luke said softly, reaching up to brush Michael’s limp fringe from his forehead, “do you remember what happened before you blacked out?” he asked, his aqua eyes showing clear concern.

‘Of course, I remember,’ Michael thought to himself bitterly, ‘one of our tech guys tried to gag me on his dick and choked the life out of me while beating me against a wall until I passed out for biting his nasty ass dick.’  But the fear of what Dave would do to his best friends if he spoke the truth had Michael murmuring a quiet, “No, I’m sorry but I don’t remember anything.”  It wasn't like he could do anything but tell the boys lie after lie to keep them safe so what else was he supposed to do?

“Do you really mean to tell us that you have no idea as to how you wound up with hand shaped bruises around your neck?” Ashton asked incredulously, “I mean come on Michael, how stupid do you think we are?” the curly haired boy hollered, hurt clear in his misty eyes.  Michael flinched at the older boys sudden outburst, cringing away when Ashton threw his hands up in the air.  The younger boy pulled his knees to his chest, rocking slightly as he tried his best not to let the looming panic attack overtake him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember!” Michael cried over and over again, tears streaming from his reddened eyes until his voice cracked and broke off into a strained whimper as he curled in on himself, the guilt of lying to his best mates causing his stomach to churn.  Sobs rocked through him like aftershocks following an earthquake as his whimpers and stuttering breaths filled the otherwise quiet and tense air.

“Hey, hey Mikey, it’s okay if you can’t remember,” Luke soothed, pulling the older boy into a tight embrace and mouthing a silent ‘fuck off’ to Ashton over Michael’s trembling shoulder.  “All that matters is that you are going to be okay, alright?” the younger boy murmured softly before pulling back to look into Michael’s sad eyes.  Michael merely nodded knowing that, no matter what anyone said, in no way, shape, or form would things ever be okay.

Michael knew what would happen as soon as he left the hospital, so it made sense as to why he was so reluctant to sign his own release papers. In all honesty he was terrified of what, or rather who, was waiting for him back at the hotel seeing as it just so happened that all the boys were supposed to be in separate hotel rooms that night.  Even just the thought of what Dave could do to him over the period of even just a single night had the poor boy quivering with fear.  But after signing all the forms and filling out every last piece of paperwork that was required for his discharge, Michael’s sobs took over once again, shaking his pale frame aggressively as he pleaded with his bandmates to not leave him on his own.

“You can stay with me, okay?” Luke said softly as he rubbed soothing circles into the shorter boys tense back.  Michael hugged the taller boy with an almost bone-crushing force as Luke rested his chin on top of the older boys head, faded green hair tickling his skin.

Michael clung to Luke as they made their way through the long and seemingly never-ending hallways of their hotel that night, an occasional whimper escaping him as he huddled into the younger boys side.  Luke simply slung a long arm over his shoulders protectively as he led Michael toward his room, the older boys suitcase dragging behind him as they walked.  They were no more than thirty feet from the door to Luke’s hotel room when a deep voice chilled Michael straight to the bone.

“Michael, babe, thank God that you’re okay!” Dave’s gravelly voice boomed as he jogged to catch up with the two teens.  “Can we talk for a minute?” he asked, stopping near Michael’s frozen frame, a small smile gracing his lips as he took in the teens fearful, wide-eyed expression.  The emerald-eyed boy nodded quickly out of fear and Dave turned to Luke, muttering a curt and almost rude, “Alone.”

“Uh, okay?  I’ll see you in the room, okay Mikey?” The blonde boy stammered, taking a step away from his trembling band mate.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll see you in aa bit,” Michael said quietly, his eyes fixed on the floor as he heard a door open and then shut, signaling that he was once again being left alone to deal with the living nightmare that was quickly taking over his life.

“Look at me,” Dave hissed, grabbing Michael’s jaw and forcing the teen to look into his evil eyes, “Did you tell them anything?” he growled, backing Michael into the wall.

“N-no, I swear, I didn’t tell them a single thing,” Michael said in a rush, his heart pounding his ribs at a near painful rate.

“Good,” Dave sneered, stepping back, “Make sure you keep your mouth shut, you little whore,” he snarled before shoving Michael toward Luke’s door. “Now get out of here before your little shit of a friend comes looking,” the older man grumbled, already retreating down the long hallway.

Michael stumbled toward the door, his knuckles barely grazing the wood before Luke was yanking it open.  “What was that all about?” he questioned, dragging Michael into the room.

“I guess he just wanted to make sure that I was okay.  He said I scared his half to death last night,” Michael lied, Avoiding Luke’s concerned gaze as he dropped down onto the bed.

“Well, that was nice of him, I guess,”Luke said quietly as he sat on the foot of the bed, facing away away from Michael as he asked, “ If something bad was happening, you would tell me, right?”, unshed tears misting in his eyes as he turned to face his friend.

“Of course, Luke,” Michael sighed, adding a silent ‘if I could’ in his mind.


	3. Bleed it Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning like a huge trigger warning

Sleep seemed to evade Michael that night, leaving him to toss and turn restlessly in hopes of finding an even slightly comfortable position.  His neck ached, the dull throb increasing in intensity as he turned his head to check the alarm clock that sat on the bedside table, the time illuminated with a fiery red light that read 3:18.  Michael groaned, exhausted and seemingly unable to sleep, his frustration was starting to get the best of him as he felt the warm sting of salty tears gathering in his bloodshot eyes.  Sighing, he rolled out of his bed and stumbled to his suitcase, his fingers fishing around the front pocket for a moment before grasping the familiar shape of his almost untouched bottle of sleeping pills.  It was rare for Michael to ever need the tiny tablets to aid him in slumber, but on nights like this he was glad that his mother had insisted that he packed them.  Popping off the cap, Michael poured two of the  small capsules into his palm before raising his hand to him mouth and swallowing the pills dry.  After tucking the bottle back into his suitcase, the pastel-haired boy made his way back toward his messy bed, cursing quietly as he tripped over a stray shoe.  Michael breathed out a sigh of relief as he regained his balance, only to find that in the process of doing so he had awoken his sleeping friend.

“Michael?” Luke grumbled sleepily, scrubbing at his tired eyes with the backs of his large hands.  “What are you doing?”, the younger boy asked with a quiet yawn as he shifted so that he was sitting up in his bed, squinting to make out Michael’s pale figure in the dark room.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Michael sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair.  “My neck’s killing me,” he admitted, rubbing at  his tender throat.

“Lay down,” Luke said softly as he rose from his bed, “I’ll go find you some ice and an aspirin,” the younger boy soothed, flicking on the lamp that sat on the small nightstand between their beds.

“Honestly Luke, I’ll be fine, you don’t need to do anything,” Michael groaned, flopping down onto his bed and wincing as his neck hit the pillows.

“No, you’re hurting and I’m going to take care of you whether you like it or not,” the blonde boy chirped, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his room key before adding, “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go ask the front desk if they have any ice packs.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed begrudgingly, rolling his eyes as a small, triumphant smile appeared on Luke’s thin lips.  “But only because I know you won’t shut up if I don’t let you,” the older boy added with a resigned sigh as he settled back into his pillows.

 

“Sorry,” Luke whispered, cringing as Michael gritted his teeth in discomfort, wincing as the younger boy adjusted the ice on his neck, “Give it a minute and it should start to feel better,” he added, settling onto the bed next to Michael’s tense body.  Luke smiled slightly when Michael let out a breathy sigh, his body sinking into the mattress as his muscles relaxed.  “Feeling better?” Luke asked quietly, carding his long fingers through his friends limp sea-foam green hair.

‘Fuck,” Michael breathed, blinking slowly as he forced himself to stay awake, “Yeah, feels fucking awesome,” he slurred, his eyelids fluttering as he fought to keep them open, causing Luke to chuckle.

“Shh, Mikey it’s okay, you can go to sleep,” Luke soothed as he pulled the duvet up, tucking the older boy into the blankets.  Michael simply snuggled closer, draping a long arm over Luke’s side while mumbling a sleepy agreement.  The younger boy just smiled and continued running his friends soft hair as he began to doze off as well.

 

_Michael’s heart raced as Dave backed him into a dark corner, a devilish grin gracing the older man’s chapped lips as he stalked Michael like a predator hunting its prey.  The younger boy struggled to breathe as the lump in his throat grew, every breath coming slightly quicker and shallower than the last.  The green-eyed boy quivered with fear, yelping as the grimy man reached up to stroke his pale, tear-stained cheek, a shuddering breath escaping the young teen as he flinched away from the contact._

_“P-please, please don’t hurt me,” Michael cried, struggling to escape the tight grip that Dave had secured on his pale wrists._

_“Don’t worry my little slut, I’m not going to hurt you,” Dave chuckled darkly, lips ghosting over Michael’s milky flesh, “At least, not yet,” he breathed as he pressed his dry, cracked lips to Michael’s.  The younger boy let out a sound of disapproval as Dave reached down to palm his roughly through the tight denim of his torn skinny jeans._

_“Don’t fucking touch me,” Michael growled, fighting to break the tight grip Dave had on his wrists._

_“Tsk tsk, where are your manners?  Such a filthy mouth,” Dave scolded, an evil gleam in his cold grey eyes._

_“Manners?  Are you fucking kidding me?” Michael Laughed humorlessly, “You’re trying to fucking molest me and you have the nerve to bitch about my lack of manners?  What the fuck is wrong with you?” he seethed._

_“This is your last warning princess, watch your language or I’ll have no choice but to punish you,” Dave purred in Michael’s ear, his hot breath fanning out over the bruised skin of the younger boys painful neck._

_“You’re fucking sick,” Michael barked, a scowl overtaking his round face._

_“What the fuck did I just tell you?” Dave snarled, grabbing a fistful of hair near the back of Michael’s skull and yanking the boys head back, causing him to cry out in pain.  “Answer me!” he screamed, releasing Michael’s thin wrists to slap his open palm harshly against the boys wet cheek._

_“T-_ to w _-watch my_ lan _-language,” Michael sobbed, wincing as Dave shoved him to the ground before hastily undoing his belt, shoving his trousers and briefs down to his knees.  Dave snatched a handful of Michael’s tangled hair in his grimy fingers, dragging the boy up so that he was resting on his knees with his face level with the sadist’s groin._

_“Suck,” the older man demanded, forcing his length into Michael’s unwilling mouth.  Fearing worse abuse, the terrified boy complied with his molesters orders, hollowing his cheeks and allowing the older man to thrust into his mouth roughly.  “Ahh,” Dave moaned rocking his hips into Michael’s hot mouth slightly faster, “Such a good little slut,” he praised, long fingers caressing Michael’s tear-stained cheeks._

_Michael was trying his best to reason with himself that remaining compliant and allowing Dave to use his body as he pleased was a far better option than allowing the sociopath to shift his abuse onto his best mates, but if he was being honest with himself it was becoming harder to do and with every abuse that he fell victim to, Michael couldn’t help but feel slightly bitter towards his band mates._

_Michael was forced back into reality as Dave held his head tightly as he twitched and released down Michael’s sore throat.  Michael gagged both at the feeling and the taste of the older man’s cum coating his tongue.  Hot tears fell from the teens eyes as crushing waves of shame rolled over him, loud sobs shaking his already trembling body._

_“Get the fuck out of here you little skank,” Dave hissed, shoving Michael away as he pulled up his jeans._

“Michael, Mikey,” Luke called, shaking his friend as he cried out in his sleep.  “Michael!” the blonde boy shouted, causing the older boys teary green eyes to fly open.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Michael spat, scrambling off the bed and falling to the floor with a thud.

“Hey, hey Mikey it’s okay I won’t hurt you,” Luke said softly reaching out a hand to help Michael to his feet.

“I said, don’t touch me!” Michael yelled, stumbling before rising to his feet and running to the bathroom, slamming the door behind and turning the lock.  His breath came in short, strained puffs as he fought to rein in his tears, a frustrated groan escaping him as he slid down the door.  

“Mikey?” he could hear Luke call quietly, knuckles rattling against the wooden door.

“Go away, Luke,” Michael sobbed, burying his head in his hands as he cried.  He could hear the handle on the door rattle and Luke sighing as he tried to dry his still misty eyes.  

 

Groaning, Michael pushed himself up off the floor and ran a weak hand through his stringy hair.  He undressed slowly, avoiding the mirror, afraid of what it might show, before stepping into the shower and turning on the water.  Michael twisted the knob until the water became so hot that he would have sworn that it was actually burning his skin, leaving red welts in its wake.  He scrubbed his hair and then his skin almost angrily until it turned and angry irritated red and began to sting.  Only once his entire body was red and burning did Michael shut off the water and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and wincing as the rough fabric brushed against his raw flesh.  After a few moments though Michael realized that the burn didn’t actually hurt, instead it felt almost pleasant, soothing almost.  He knew it was wrong, yet his fingers twitched at the prospect of more pain, the thought of it grounding him and offering him a momentary sense of peace. Without really thinking of the possible consequences to his actions, Michael grabbed the complimentary disposable razor that rested on the counter near the sink, tearing of the wrapper and prying apart the head until the three small blade broke loose and fell to the cold surface of the counter.  Smiling widely at his success, Michael picked up one of the tiny blades turning it between his fingers and admiring the way it gleamed in the light before pressing the sharp piece of metal to the creamy skin of his pale wrist.  A small gasp escaped the teen as he pressed down hard before raking the blade across his sensitive flesh, opening a wide gash on the previously flawless skin.  Michael let out a quiet moan at the feeling that washed over him, the wound burned in a way that had the boy craving more as the blood spilled from the cut and trickled down his arm.

 

Several cuts later Michael sat on the closed seat of the toilet, pressing tissues to his wounds in order to stop the bleeding, using dampened tissues to wipe the trails of drying blood from his arm.  He cringed at the growing pile of tissues as he cleaned up the evidence of his guilty pleasure, wincing as the tissues stuck to his cuts.

“Michael, you okay?” he heard Luke call, worry clear in the younger boys voice.

“Yeah,” Michael sighed, the word slurred almost like he was drunk and Michael silently cursed himself.

“Michael, let me in!” Luke shouted rattling the door as he tried to turn the handle.  It was clear to Michael that the boy was starting to panic so he slid his boxers on and quickly flushed the tissues he had used to clean up his mess before staggering toward the door and unlocking it.  He swayed dangerously as he pushed the door open, stumbling forward a few steps before Luke reached out and wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him.  “Fuck Mikey, what did you take?” Luke asked his blue eyes wide as he took in Michael’s overly dilated pupils and lack of coordination.

“Didn’t take anything, I swear,” Michael drawled, blinking slowly and trying to force his eyes to focus.  He could feel blood still bubbling from the deep gashes that littered his arm.

“C’mon, you need to sit down,” Luke muttered, dragging Michael toward the bed and setting him gently on the mattress.  “Fuck, Mikey, are you bleeding?” Luke yelped, watching as blood ran down Michael’s pale wrist.  Michael flinched as Luke grabbed his wrist harshly before letting out a quiet sob.  “Michael, what the fuck did you do?!” Luke cried, looking up to meet Michael’s eyes only to find that they were hazy and slowly closing.  “Don’t you dare do this Michael, don’t you fucking dare!” he sobbed, blindly reaching for his phone.

 

“999, which emergency service do you require?” the operator asked calmly, her voice echoing in Luke’s ear’s as he sobbed.

“Am-ambulance, I need an ambulance!” He cried, pulling his shirt over his head and holding it firmly to Michael’s bleeding wounds.

“Okay sir, to what location shall I direct the paramedics?” Luke quickly spewed out the address of their hotel, sobbing violently and watching in horror as Michael’s crimson blood soaked through his shirt.

 

 


	4. Lend me a Hand Because I'm Slipping Under

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe sometime we sink so low that none can reach us...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I know it has been way too long. I ended up having to spinal surgeries and have had a bit of a rough recovery, but I am finally up and running again .

“What the hell is going on?” Ashton groaned sleepily, looking at Luke and blinking several times before he realized that the younger boy had blood all over his hands and arms.  “Luke, what happened?” he asked, now fully awake and wide eyed as he took in Luke’s trembling frame.

“M-Mikey tried to, and then the ambulance... they took him away...all my fault,” Luke rambled, making no sense as he sobbed.  His blue eyes wide as saucers and his pale, lanky body swaying dangerously.

“Lukey, babe, you need to slow down and tell me what happened,” Ashton said as calmly as he could, his hands trembling as he placed them on the younger boys shoulders.

“Michael tried to kill himself, it’s all my fault!” Luke wailed, sinking to his knees as Ashton’s arms dropped to his sides.  The color drained from his face in mere seconds and he froze for a moment, his heart sinking all the way to his toes, before he snapped into action.

“Calum!” Ashton yelled, “Get the fuck up!”

“What the fuck,” Calum muttered, “What’s so important that you had to wake me up?” the kiwi boy muttered bitterly.

“Michael tried to kill himself, Luke found him and called the medics but we need to get to the hospital,” Ashton said in a rush his hazel eyes wide with fear.  Tears gathered in his eyes making them look glassy as he rushed around the room gathering clothing and his phone.

"Lukey?" Cal breathed, reaching for the younger boy who stood frozen in the doorway as his whole body shook with force of his silent sobs.  "Luke, this isn't your fault," Calum said softly as he pulled the tall blonde boy into his arms, holding him tightly.  Fear and anguish radiated from Luke as he sagged against Calum, his normal confidence and strength having been extinguished.  

 

The ride to the hospital was eerily quiet, the only sounds being hushed sobs and sniffles as each boy swiped away their hot tears.  Ashton watched Luke wearily, certain that the younger boy as falling into some form of shock as he slowly drained of color and energy.  Calum had his head rested against the cold glass of the tinted window, tears falling freely from his dark eyes as he watched the city fly by.  No one dared to speak as the pavement sped by, their throats tight and thick with tears.

 

Calum was the first to burst from the car as they finally rolled to a stop in front of the large hospital, running toward the doors frantic to find his best friend.  Ashton had to lift Luke's body from the leather seat, cringing as he noticed the slight tremors that were causing his lanky body to shake, before following Calum through the sliding doors.  The whiskey eyed boy stopped dead in his tracks as he heard Luke let out a shaky breath before his sapphire eyes rolled back.  He called out for help as he rushed to catch the younger boy before he could hit the cold ceramic of the tile floor.  The caramel haired boy watch in horror as he and Luke were swarmed, doctors and nurses stealing Luke from him and whisking the tall blonde away down a maze of hallways and doors.

The kiwi boy ran through the halls calling out for Michael, desperate to find his best friend.  By the time he was directed toward Michael's room he was in full on hysterics, his toned chest heaving with the force of his heart wrenching sobs.  He froze as Michael appeared behind a wall of glass, his pale body lying limply on the sterile white sheets of the hospital bed.  Never before had he seen the crazy haired boy look so broken and vulnerable, his body covered in a tangled mess of tubes and wires.  He watched in anguish as doctors scurried around his pale frame, stitching his more severe wounds and bandaging others, their skilled fingers slowly piecing Michael back together as everyone around him began to fall apart.  

Calum looked on as the doctors started giving his best friend a much needed blood transfusion, the red liquid flowing through an IV into the crook of Michael's blood stained elbow, relief washing over him as the older boy's body slowly regained a slight hint of color.  He watched in mortified horror as his best friends body seized tight and the monitors began to flash.  He watched, grief already settling in his heart, as doctors tried chest compression before settling two paddles against the pale boys chest.  Seconds dragged into minutes and each minute felt like an hour until finally Michael's heart returned to a semi normal beat.  His eyes were glazed and his cheeks felt wet as he staggered up to the wall of glass, hands pressing against the thick pane as he slumped against the cool surface.

 

Luke laid on a bed to small for his lanky frame, wires falling haphazardly from his pale white skin.  Ashton paced the room nervously, hands knotted in his hair as he waited for the younger boy to awaken.  Shock induced coma, the doctors had called it.  The same thing that caused mothers to faint upon hearing that their child had been in an accident.  They had explained that, while Luke would awaken at some point, he had to do so on his own as not to risk harming him.  Still the older boy paced, nervous energy radiating from him like heat off a fire.  

His hazel eyes glistened with tears as he ran a large hand over his face, ceasing his constant pacing to brush the hair from Luke's forehead.  The younger boy groaned, shifting slightly and opening his icy blue eyes.  

 

Calum stood leaning against the glass wall for almost two hours before the doctors let him in to see Michael.  After that he had remained curled into a ball in the chair next to his best friends bedside.  His fingers traced nonsense patterns over the older boys translucent skin, his dark eyes growing heavy as the hours dragged on.  At about the four hour mark, Ashton had stumbled into the room balancing a sleeping Luke on his hip.  The pair looked quite comical but Calum couldn't find it in himself to laugh.  Instead he had shot the eldest boy a weak and exhausted smile before returning to resting his chin on the edge of Michael's bed.

 

Ashton had gently situated Luke on the recliner near the window before dragging a chair of his own next to Calum's and dropping into it tiredly.  His normally gleeful eyes were void of their usual shine as he took in the current state of his friend.  His fingers found Calum's as they both tried to blink away their tears, eyes tired and red as the wetness spilled down their cheeks.


	5. Landslide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER
> 
> Sorry for the wait guys, I've just had a lot going on in life. The past few moths have been crazy because my gelding was diagnosed with early stage navicular, then tore his front suspenory ligament a month later, so I've been focused on him.

Have you ever gotten that sinking feeling in your gut, the kind that looms over you with an even greater weight than despair and guilt?  The kind where you just know everything in your whole world is about to change, and you're terrified that it will be for the worse and not the better?  Do you ever get that feeling?  Michael is definitely no stranger to that feeling.  
  
  
  
He can remember the feeling of tubes and wires and the chill of cold, sterile, hospital air.  He can remember the sound of his friends voices and doctors and worried chatter.  He can remember opening his eyes and seeing their worried faces and flowers and cards and crying eyes.  But most of all he can remember that sinking feeling of dread, of disappointment, of shame.  He can remember breaking down into tears of regret and relief and fear.  He can remember begging them to let him stay there in the hospital because he finally felt safe.  He can remember sobbing during therapy and refusing to answer the doctor's questions.  He can remember emptying his stomach into a bowl of porcelain when they cleared him for release.  He can remember swearing to end his own life.  He can remember them taking him home anyways.  
  
  
  
He doesn't remember much after the first night of being back on tour, and even what he can remember is muddled with alcohol and antidepressants.  The only memories that do stick with him are the feeling of hands on his skin, of his body being held down, of the pervert forcing him to submit.  And so he takes another shot of whiskey and savors the burn, god knows it's the only thing he feels anymore.  Images of every assault dance through his mind in a drunken haze as he reaches for the bottle of Jack Daniel's that is already half empty. One shot after another, he smothers the pain in his limbs and the base of his spine with more of the amber liquor.  Soon the bottle is empty and he can still feel the grip of self loathing tightening around his chest; so he stumbles to the front of the bus and settles for tequila.  It's Ashton who finds him nearly an hour later, splayed across the cramped floor covered in his own vomit and still clutching the glass bottle in his numb fingers.    
  
  
  
He stopped speaking about a month after they brought him 'home'.  He used the term lightly because hotels and tour buses would never be home for him...home was safe, this definitely wasn't home.  He still sang and performed and answered questions during interviews, but away from the public eye he fell silent.  Why scream when you know that no one will hear you?  Michael wouldn't have been able to find the words to describe his torture even if he had tried, so why bother?  Why fight it? Why should he even try; when it was obvious no one cared that he was slipping through the cracks?  
  
  
  
He cringed as Dave pressed him against the rough stucco wall, scraping his face on the sandpaper like ripples in the plaster.  A grimace formed upon his lips as the older man used one hand to pin Michael's hands above his head and the other to undo his belt.  A dry sob escaped him as his jeans were shoved down to his knees, he felt so incredibly exposed.  "Please- please don't, please," he begged, trying to squirm away as the tech circled his puckered entrance.  He had long since become used to the blinding burn of being prepped dry, but being accustomed to the feeling did little to lessen the pain.  After a few minutes of white hot pain, the fingers in his bottom disappeared he could hear the tearing of foil.  
  
"Such a good little slut," Dave cooed to him as he pressed himself against Michael's entrance.  Michael bit down on his cheek as he felt the elder sinking into him, blood filling his mouth.  He fought back the scream rising in his throat as the bastard began thrusting into him; the burn was blinding as it seared Michael's flesh.  He cringed even harder at the familiar feeling of his skin tearing in response the dry intrusion, tears falling and rolling down his cheeks at a rapid pace.  
  
  
  
He limped back to his room, tears still streaking his face.  Looks of concern were cast his way but no one stopped him, no one questioned the all too familiar behavior.  A faint sense of relief washed over the now dark haired boy as he stumbled through the door to his hotel room, slamming it shut and turning the lock before staggering to the lone bed.  He started requesting his own room after his nightmares began to wake the other boys.  He could see the frustration in their eyes every time the would try and comfort him; so he had decided suffering alone was better than being any more of a burden. He reached into the drawer of the bedside table, retrieving a joint before lighting the bundle and taking a hit.  He kept going until tightness in his chest faded and his eyes were red rimmed for an entirely different reason.  Even then he still took one drag after another, filling his lungs with sweet relief.  
  
  
He knew he was busted the instant one of the audio techs  hollered through the door, “Seriously Mike, sound check starts in twenty minutes and you damn well better be there this time!”  The pale boy groaned, rising drunkenly to shed his clothes in favor of something less smothered by the stench that the blunt had produced.  After changing and dousing his new attire in air freshener, Michael propelled his smoke numbed self from his room and down the hall, his earlier limp unnoticeable as he made his way down to the lobby.  The boys were waiting for him, and Luke scrunched his nose in disgust as Michael neared them. “Damnit Michael,” Ashton hissed, grabbing him and dragging him back into the hallway. “You can't keep doing this, seriously this shit needs to end. You can't be fucking this up for everyone else just because you don't care anymore.”  Michael felt tears pricking in his eyes as he curled in on himself. “For fucks  sake Michael, right before a concert seriously what the hell were you thinking?” Calum added stepping into the hallway. “Mikey you know we love but they're right, you need to stop,” Luke chided.  
  
That was it for him, that was the last straw. “You know what? Fuck you! You have no fucking clue the hell I am living even though it's been right in front of your fucking faces this whole damn time. Bull shit, you care, bunch of fucking liars,” Michael spat shoving the trio out of his way and knocking Luke to the floor in the process. He didn't look back and yanked his arm from Ashton’s grip when the older boy tried to stop him, bolting down down the hall towards the back of the hotel.  He was out the back door in a matter of minutes, jogging down an alleyway before fading into the crowded streets.  He was pissed and depressed and honest to god lost in an unfamiliar city, he was homesick and scared and ready to kill himself if he was being honest.  The cold air was a biting reminder that he had not planned on taking off and touring the city, another reminder that he was utterly alone.  The thought that even Luke was against him now brought forth an all too familiar ache in his chest as he stumbled into an alley, his back sliding down the wall of aged brick until he was sitting on the dirty pavement.  Sobs slipped past his lips and he wanted nothing more than to disappear.    
  
  
  
It was a long while before he rose from the asphalt and rejoined the bustling streets.  His phone buzzed, he had an hour to be at the venue.  He didn't reply, just stuffed it back in his pocket and kept moving.  He was shocked and slightly saddened that no one had noticed him, though he was grateful as well, who knows what management would do if the press got ahold of him now.  And so he made his way back to the hotel, in the back door, and back to his room.  He turned the lock before shuffling across the small space to open the wind and air out the haziness from the room.  Slipping his phone from his pocket, he removed the case and retrieved the blade that had been tucked inside of it.  Michael shed his jeans and rolled up the leg of his boxers, pressing the cold metal into his tattered thigh. A line of crimson rising with each pass of the hard edge against his skin.  It should have hurt, should have made him feel something besides the chaos in his mind, but it didn't.  Michael grew frustrated cursing before tossing the blade down on the now blood stained duvet.  He rose, not caring about the trickles of red running down his leg, and shuffled to his suit case.  He dug around before pulling out a small bottle of benzos that one of their techs had landed him.  He popped off the cap and dropped one of the small tablets in his mouth, letting it dissolve on his tongue.  His vision distorted as he placed another tablet on his tongue, revling in the sense of weightlessness that consumed him.  
  
Michael wasn't sure how many he had taken, nor how much of his blood had stained the bed sheets by the time someone came pounding on his door.  He could vaguely hear the person shouting for him to open the door, but he ignored them in favor of dragging another deep wound into his flesh.  The pounding got louder and a familiar voice called out, “Mikey? C’mon, we need you for the show.” A fleeting pang of guilt hit Michael at the thought of Luke being the one to find him like this once again.  He shook the feeling, reminding himself that the boys didn't really care about him, they only needed him for the sake of the band. He sliced an even deeper gash into his skin before responding with a crackly, drunken ‘Fuck off’.  “Get the Fuck out here Michael,” he could hear Ashton shout, but his voice sounded far away and muffled as Michael let his head fall back against the wooden headboard.  
  
  
  
“Just let me die, for fucks sake do me that one fucking kindness,” he slurred, tears rolling down his cheeks.  
  
“No, no, no, no,” he could hear Luke chanting through the door, “Please Mikey let me in, please, please, please… please Michael…” Luke sobbed. The sound broke Michael's heart as he rolled off the bed and crawled to the door, leaning his head against the cool surface.  
  
“‘M so-oorry,” he slurred against the door before reaching up and fumbling to undo the lock.  No more than it had clicked, Luke was shoving his way into the room and dropping to cradle Michael in his arms; he buried his face in the older boys hair, sobbing as he pressed his hands to the cuts in an attempt to stop the bleeding.    
  
“How many did you take?” Ashton demanded, holding up the now half empty bottle of pills.  
  
“I dunno,” Michael sobbed, his head lolling back against Luke's chest.  Ashton covered ground quickly, scooping the younger boy into his arms and carrying him to the bathroom.  He turned the shower on as cold as it would go and sank to the floor under the icy spray, soaking both Michael and himself.  
  
"Puke," Ashton snarled,  shoving two of his fingers into Michael's mouth until the younger boy gagged.  He didn't let up until the pale boy was dry heaving and sobbing against his chest, his bloody thighs staining the water red. "Get me a towel," he barked shutting off the spray and dragging Michael out of the tub.  Luke handed him a stack and the two of them went to work drying the incoherent boy before wrapping his shredded thighs in clean towels.  "Luke go get the door, I'm taking him to our room," he said, lifting Michael off of the tile and carrying him into the bedroom. The taller boy obliged and opened both doors so Ashton could carry the groggy teen across the hall.  Once in their room, he set Michael on Luke's bed before pulling a first aid kit from his luggage.  He bandaged his wounds and beckoned the younger boy into the hall before turning to Luke, " we have to play without him tonight, if anyone asks he got sick, got it?"  

 

Luke looked down right pissed as he shoved Ashton, “And leave him here alone? He needs to go to the fucking hospital Ash, even if I have to drive him myself!”

“No! He needs to sober the fuck up and pull his head out of his ass, I am sick of this shit Luke, you can't keep defending him!” Ashton snapped, shoving Luke in return.

  
“Maybe I don't blame him Ashton! Maybe I am just too much of a coward to do what he has! Maybe that's why I defend him!” Luke shouted, his anger deflating as tears rolled down his cheeks, “Maybe I love him, Ash, maybe I love him a whole fucking lot. Maybe that's why I defend him,” he whispered, shoving past the older boy and slamming the door and going back to stay with Michael.


	6. Authors Note -Will remove before next update

Very sorry for the delay, I have been dealing with some very serious health issues but now at least have a handle on them.  There is an update in the works and regular updates will be making a reappearance soon! Thank you all so much for your patience <3


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